


Nocturnal Children

by discothequey



Series: After Dark [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discothequey/pseuds/discothequey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an alternate universe fic in which Brian is Justin's contemporary. It takes place circa 1995 in the midst of childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturnal Children

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone. I will be gradually reposting some of my fiction over here as I rework/edit and update it. I don't know how long it will take, but I do plan to finish everything in the future (including and especially my WIPs). If you'd like to read everything as-is, you can find my work on LJ @ discofabuleux.

"You have to be _veeeery_ quiet," Justin whispered, grabbing Brian by the hand and pulling him through the window. "I don't wanna get in trouble."

Brian nodded, scrambling on his purply-black bruised knees over the sill and onto the window seat covered in schoolbooks and sketchpads smudged with graphite. His arms were weak from climbing the trellis, toes cold and damp in his flip-flops from the freezing weather, and his cheeks were red from running, but Justin couldn't see that in the darkness. Justin could see the way Brian's dark hair stuck to his forehead with nervous sweat, how he was wearing ripped jeans with a pajama top, but he couldn't make out the details of his face.

Brian kicked off the black flip-flops he'd thrown on in a hurry, rubbed his dirty feet across the carpet of Justin's bedroom, and began to remove his pants. Justin tossed the other kid a pair of extra sweatpants he had folded in his top drawer. They were too big on him, but always fit Brian just right.

"Thanks," Brian whispered, sliding them on over shaking legs. He was cold, all the hairs were standing up on his arms and legs, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl under Justin's covers and never come out. He sighed, plucking at a hole in his top, and shivered as Justin shut the window before climbing back in bed.

Brian joined him.

The sheets smelled like lavender washing detergent and snuggly little kids who just wanted a peaceful night's rest. They were soft, softer than Brian's at his house, and the boy figured it was because Justin's mom wasn't like his mom. Mrs. Taylor didn't watch taped soap operas all day with a bottle of wine clutched between her hands. Justin never had to come home to his mother passed out on the couch and wonder if she'd finally died.

Brian was jealous. He turned toward his friend in bed, stared into blinking eyes that were blue in the light of day but black at night, and wondered if he kissed him, would he be able to crawl inside him? Would he be able to live the rest of his life as Justin Craig Taylor from a perfect little neighborhood with perfect little parents and a perfect baby sister? He sniffed because he thought maybe he was crying just a little.

Justin put his hand on Brian's arm and tried to pull him closer. "You can sleep close to me if you want," he whispered, shaggy blond hair flopping into his eyes and curtaining off the glimmer. "Might make you feel better if you're sad."

Brian scooted forward a little until his knees were touching Justin's and closed his eyes.

The next morning, Jennifer slipped into her son's room to wake him, only to find two pairs of feet sticking out from under the covers and a disheveled mop of chestnut hair mixing with Justin's blond on one of the pillows. She fixed her mouth in a straight line of worry and made her way over to the bed.

She didn't see any bruises, no visible marks, but the tiny little split in Brian's bottom lip was apparent in the dim light of early morning.

Swallowing, throat tight, Jennifer moved to the foot of the bed, pulled the comforter down over the boys' chilly feet, and picked up the bunched, green socks Justin had kicked off in the middle of the night. She dropped them in the hamper, straightened a tiny school sweater from where it was draped over the back of a desk chair, and left the room.

*****

"Mom?" Justin called from the hallway, pushing down the scrunched leg of his striped pajama pants with his foot and shivering from the winter morning cold. The hardwoods were freezing against his feet and made his toes hurt.

Jennifer stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands off on a dishtowel, and raised her eyebrows. "Yes, honey?"

"Brian's coming for breakfast, 'kay?"

"When did you talk to Brian?"

Justin twisted his face up and shrugged a little, shifting from foot to foot. "Last night, I think."

Jennifer narrowed her eyes, contemplating calling him out, but God, Justin was so darn cute when he lied. She leaned down to his level and gave him a good morning hug. "Tell Brian we're having pancakes," she said into Justin's seashell ear, giving it a kiss before pulling away.

Justin ran straight to the front door, threw it open, and pulled a shivering Brian inside by the front of his pajama top. "We're having pancakes," he told his friend, escorting him into the kitchen.

Brian rubbed at the scratches on his hands from climbing back down the trellis. The skin was picked, but not bleeding, so he shoved them in the pockets of his jeans and tried to forget.

"Well, you got here fast," Jennifer greeted, flipping a pancake with a sparkling spatula and giving the boy a knowing smile. "Sleep well?"

Brian didn't say anything.

*

Halfway through breakfast, Craig brought two-year-old Molly into the kitchen and slipped her into her highchair. The little girl looked at Brian, her big blue eyes so much like Justin's, and blew him a raspberry.

"Shut up, Molly," Justin whispered secretly, giving his baby sister a dirty look.

Molly blew him one, too, spit spraying everywhere, and Brian laughed even though it made his lip hurt.

*****

It was a cold Saturday. The sun barely poked out from behind the gray clouds scattered across the sky, and everything was less colorful, somehow, as if the world had been desaturated. It was coat and mitten weather, hat with earflaps weather, and Brian had needed to borrow some of Justin's gear before the boys headed out into the yard to play.

They turned on the outdoor radio by the barbecue and did cartwheels in the Taylor yard to the sounds of Tom Petty singing "Mary Jane's Last Dance" and the neighbors yelling for them to turn it down.

"You're my best friend," Justin said, pushing Brian onto the grass and falling on top of him. The ground was cold and wet and made mud spots on the back of Brian's jeans, but Justin was warm and felt like good things, so it didn't matter.

He loved Justin. He wanted to be Justin. He wanted Mrs. Taylor to hug him and cook him breakfast; wanted Mr. Taylor to let him wear his huge, fancy work shoes just to take out the trash; and wanted Molly to pull his hair and bite him when she was angry. But then that meant there would be no Justin, no blond hair that smelled like Pert and cheeks that turned red when he whispered bad words in Brian's ear, so Brian decided that he just wanted to be Justin's brother. Yeah. That would be good. He would be his brother so he could hug him a lot, and they could stay up late on the weekends eating candy and looking up "penis" and "vagina" in the encyclopedia.

Justin was cool, even though the kids at school all thought he was a smartypants. He kind of talked a lot, but Brian didn't, so things evened out.

"You wanna see something funny?"

Brian looked up at his friend, who was breathing in his face and had a bit of a crusty nose from the cold weather. "What?" He asked, rolling until he was free.

Justin stood up, grabbed Brian by the sleeve of his coat, and pulled him around to the back yard and inside his playhouse. It was dark in there and smelled like sawdust, but blue fabric hung over the windows and the pale light from outside shone through, casting reflections on the walls. It was pretty neat.

"Whatcha got?" Brian whispered, stomping his booted feet against the floor, trying to regain some life in his toes.

Justin dug around in an open box stored in the far corner of the tiny house, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "You have to promise not to tell, 'kay? Daphne ripped it out of a book her parents have and gave it to me."

Brian nodded and took the paper from Justin. He unfolded it, and before his mind was even able to process the image, he burst into laughter. " _Eeeew_ ," he said loudly, studying the professionally drawn picture of what appeared to be a couple having sex. "Gross!"

Justin laughed, that happy sound Brian liked a lot, and took the paper back. "This position en...ensures deep-" He broke into giggles, then shoved it in Brian's face and told him to finish reading. "Read it."

Brian snorted and murmured, "This position ensures deep pen...pene..."

" _Penetration_ ," Justin said loudly, and okay, he _was_ a bit of a smartypants.

Brian gave him a look. "I knew what it said. Just couldn't get it out."

" _Reeeead_."

"This position assures deep _penetration_ , as well as clit-oh-ral stim-uh-late-ee-un."

"Clit-oh-ral _stimulation_."

"What's that mean?" Brian asked, looking at the picture and trying to keep from laughing. "What's a clit-oh-ral?"

"Girl parts, I think." Justin scrunched up his nose and peered at the image. "Gross, gross, girl parts."

"He's very hairy," Brian noted, pointing at the man and chancing a quick glance at Justin, whose cheeks were red.

"Yep."

"Yeah."

The paper ended up folded and shoved back in the bottom of the box under Justin's rollerskates.

Later on, as the boys were sitting cross-legged on Justin's bed, listening to Madonna's latest album and eating Pringles, Brian asked Justin if he could kiss anybody in the whole world, who would it be.

Justin blushed, wiping his salty lips off on his shirt sleeve, and shrugged. "Probably nobody."

"Nobody?"

He shrugged again.

"Kids from school like Alyssa Milano," Brian said, grabbing a stack of chips and shoving them all in his mouth at once. He sputtered a bit, dropping crumbs onto Justin's bedspread, but continued talking. "She's kind of pretty."

"Yeah," Justin breathed, looking down at his lap and then back up and Brian.

"But I wouldn't kiss her."

Something fell between the two of them, and then they were talking about how funny A.C. Slater was while really talking about a completely different subject. Brian ate his chips, and Justin brushed the crumbs off the sweater Brian was borrowing from him, and then Brian was grabbing Justin's hand and holding it.

Jennifer walked in then, carrying a basket of clean laundry, and Brian scooted no less than ten inches away in a matter of seconds. The boys watched her fold Justin's underwear and tuck them into his drawer, listened to her talk on and on about the weather and how she was taking Molly to get her ears pierced and did they want to go with her, and then she closed the door behind her and the two of them didn't say anything.

*****

The mall was loud and noisy and smelled like stale popcorn with aging butter. Justin loved it. He patted his pocket, which was housing the twenty dollar bill his mother had given him and Brian to share, and smiled at his friend.

"I hate the mall," Brian said, playing with the buttons on his loaned coat and groaning when a woman and her four slobbery children brushed past him. His skin crawled. He wanted to go sit in the car and peoplewatch instead of being subjected to the sickening smell of cherry slushees and hot dog chili mixing together with human sweat and overflowing bathrooms.

Justin bumped his hip and grabbed hold of his belt loop. "Let's go to the music store. Twenty dollars. We can both get tapes!"

They bought matching Moby albums and a blue Sharpie with which to scrawl their names on the cover. Brian grabbed Justin's tape when he wasn't looking and drew a little heart on the inner insert for him to find later. He smiled to himself and snapped the cap back on.

*****

"Pizza, pizza, pizza!" Justin chanted, elbowing Brian to try to get him to chime in. Molly babbled something that sounded a bit like "pee-tha," and Justin decided that maybe he liked her, if only just a little.

"Brian, what do you think of my son?" Jennifer asked with a teasing smile, checking her rear view mirror and flipping on her turn signal. "I bet you think he's spoiled rotten."

Brian shrugged, because he never really talked to Mrs. Taylor, and grinned shyly. He did think Justin was spoiled rotten, but he would've liked to have been spoiled, too, so he kept his mouth shut.

They stopped at Pizza Hut and got their own personal pans. Justin ate the pepperonis off Brian's pizza because they were crispy and Brian only liked them soft, and when they were finished, they used the extra money left over from the twenty to buy rub-on tattoos and a handful each of Chiclets.

"Mine says 'Born to be Wild,'" Justin said, taking out his tattoo. "What's yours say?"

Brian snorted. "I got the same one. We can be twins."

"Or it can be our Best Friends tattoo."

Sometimes Justin was weird, but Brian still liked him. He smiled and tossed all his Chiclets in his mouth at once.

They applied their tattoos in Justin's bathroom with sponges they'd stolen from the kitchen and water straight from the tap. Brian's was on his stomach and Justin's on his arm.

"We have to be best friends forever," Justin whispered, examining the red and black tattoo on his pallid skin.

"We will," Brian said back. "Always."

*****

Brian called his house from the hall phone when it got dark but hung up after the seventh time because no one was answering. His mom was probably out cold, and Claire was probably cutting herself in the bathtub again, begging for attention.

"You can spend the night," Justin said happily. Clueless. Blissfully ignorant. Brian wanted to be him so badly he almost kissed him right then, just to see. Just to see if it'd work. Justin had pink lips and a grape Kool Aid mustache. Brian looked away.

"I want to," Brian murmured, because he did. "But I have to go home," he finished, because he also did. He needed to check things out. Make sure... Make sure Joanie was still breathing and Claire didn't bleed too much. Make sure the money was still in the jar by his bed and Jack hadn't taken it and left like last time. He closed his eyes.

"Brian, honey, are you okay?" Jennifer peered around from the kitchen, a concerned look on her face. "Did you get your mom?"

Brian shook his head and shrugged it all off like it was no big deal. Because it wasn't. Or it shouldn't have been. He was strong. He was fine.

"If you want me to run you home, I can." The look on her face made Brian think she knew something, but then it was gone and he wasn't sure.

He swallowed a few times, looked over at Justin, who was munching on a cookie and getting crumbs all over his face, and breathed. "I think I might spend the night," he said, voice small and quiet like that of a mouse. He cleared his throat and looked toward the phone, then down at his bare feet and dirty toes.

Jennifer hugged him, kissed both his cheeks, and told him he was welcome.

Brian swallowed again, hard, and tried to smile. His lip still hurt.

*****

The boys took a shower together in Craig and Jennifer's bathroom, made mohawks in their hair with shampoo, and laughed when Justin's wouldn't stick up straight because his hair was too long.

"You're so weird," Brian said, grabbing the blue loofah from where it hung on the shower rack and tossing it at Justin's head. Justin picked it up and threw it back and Brian, and then they started play-fighting in the shower until the water ran cold and Craig stuck his head in the door, yelling for the boys to cut it out or they'd fall and break their necks.

Justin had already fallen twice. He laughed after his dad closed the door behind him.

*****

Brian called his house again before bed, and Claire answered. Her voice sounded thick, like she was smoking, but she swore she wasn't when Brian asked.

"Mom's in bed."

"Okay." Brian felt his breathing slow. "I'm at Justin's."

"Yeah." Claire paused. "I covered for you. Told Mom she said you could go before she passed out."

"I'm spending the night again."

"I'll tell her."

"Okay."

"Dad's not here."

"Okay."

"He didn't come back."

"Okay."

"But we're all right."

"Okay."

"Night."

"Night." Okay. Brian hung up and went to the bathroom. He sat on the toilet and cried for seven minutes before washing his face and running back up the stairs to Justin's room.

"Hey," Justin said, pulling back the covers for Brian to climb inside. The lamp was on, and Justin's Moby tape was open and in the boom box, playing "Hymn" so low that it was almost hard to hear.

Brian didn't say anything. He wiped his nose on his pajama top, which was really Justin's pajama top because his was too dirty to wear, and stretched out under the sheets.

The lamp switched off, but the music played on.

"I like nighttime," Justin said randomly, turning on his side to face Brian. "I like the dark."

This was why Brian loved him. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."

And the kiss wasn't what Brian had thought it would be. He'd thought it would be quick, like a ghost of air rushing past his lips, but it wasn't. He'd thought he would've been doing it while Justin was asleep, kissing him so the other boy wouldn't know, so it would be a secret. So he could close his eyes and wish the whole time. Wish that when he opened his eyes, when he woke up the next morning and stretched out in bed, he would be Justin, and Mrs. Taylor would come in to wake him, rub her hands through his hair, and smile like she loved him.

But it didn't happen like that.

Justin reached out to touch Brian's face in the dark, felt out his lips with a shy finger, and then leaned in until they were sharing breath.

Their noses bumped a little, Brian could feel Justin smile when his lips first missed and landed on his cheek, but they soon made it home. Smooth, pink lips touched rough, split ones, and even though they were different, they were the same.

Justin opened his mouth a little to breathe, and then pushed his lips back to Brian's, holding still, counting to four, five, six, and pulling away. He smiled, a beam. Brian saw his teeth glowing in the moonlight.

"You're the only person in the whole world I want to kiss," Justin admitted shyly, closing his eyes once the song was over and it was silent. He was glad it was dark, because he knew his cheeks were on fire.

"Did you see the picture I drew on your tape?" Brian asked, barely a whisper. He rolled onto his back but tilted his head to watch Justin's eyes blink open and closed.

"What picture?"

Brian smiled. "Look at it tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

The next song began. It was fast, loud, and Justin reached over to turn it off.

"You can leave it," Brian said, grasping Justin's hand and pulling it back. "If you want. I'm not tired yet."

Justin grinned. "We're nocturnal," he murmured, untwisting his fingers from Brian's so he could tuck them under his pillow.

"Nocturnal," Brian repeated through a yawn, closing his eyes. Justin knew so many words. Smartypants. "I like that."


End file.
